


Tearing Seams

by Drowsybadger



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Darth Maul is the Worst, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, No Beta We Die Like Clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27739324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drowsybadger/pseuds/Drowsybadger
Summary: In which The Lawless beccomes even more painful for Obi-Wan.
Relationships: Korkie Kryze & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Korkie Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	Tearing Seams

Upon his stolen throne, Maul snarls.

“Bring in... _The whelp_ ,” he commands. His voice, smooth as silk, makes any threats uttered all the more fearsome.

One of his henchmen salutes and leaves.

Ob-Wan’s mind is racing. _What did he mean ‘whelp’? What poor soul had harmed Maul so to be deserving of that title?_

Maul cackles.

“Oh, isn’t that... Droll. She never told you, did she?”

Obi-Wan finds himself afraid. _What_ is Maul talking about?

His gaze meets Satine’s, hoping to see Maul’s lie in them, but...

Her clear blue eyes are sorrowful, and she has the expression one she wore when she told him and Qui-Gon their stay was at an end.

A look of remorse.

She truly knows who this person is.

This person, who is somehow relevant to him, to them, who he knows nothing about.

Again, the red Zabrak on the throne sneers.

“Go on, _Duchess_. Tell your _dear_ Jedi Knight. Enlighten him, before I do.”

On the dais, Almec’s tight lips widens into a smirk. Callous and mean, like his trade politics.

“Obi-Wan...Oh, Obi-Wan, what have I done?! I brought my home world to ruination, _and_ kept you from your son.”

For a heartbeat, time stops. _He has a son._ How?

Wrong question. He knows how.

He has a son. _Him and Satine_ have a son. A teenager by now, probably. He has missed out on so much. First steps, words, little tricks and talents. School. Sleepless nights. Reading bed-time stories.

He _has_ done a lot that, with and for the Younglings in the creche, but this... This is different. Personal. Tentatively, guarding himself, he reaches out with the Force. He has never actively sought out his blood family through it, although he knows of the possibility. Like expected, there are several idle Force signatures further away, in the general direction of Stewjon, although a few came from Alderaan, and he can tell the Force (or perhaps even he) counts his close friends and lineage as family, too.

Another reason not to do this too often. His mind is spread out _too_ much. One part of it in the Outer Rim, wondering what Quinlan is doing there. Another on Coruscant with Ahsoka and Anakin. Yet another here on Mandalore.

And there it is, that small spark. It’s light and buzzing in irritation, like a bee whose nest had been intruded upon. And it is nearing them with worrisome speed.

He pulls out of meditation in concern.

“Satine... Why... Why did you never tell me?”

Her gaze falls to the floor.

“I thought... You would be happier as a Jedi. I felt you were destined for something greater than a Duke Consort. We made our choices, back then. And our sacrifices.”

The doors fall open. The guard drags in a young man. His mouth set in a firm line and his chin held high, he holds himself with all the grace and highness one would expect of Satine’s son. Yet, Obi-Wan felt like a fool. If one ignored the blond hair, the resemblance to him is uncanny. He can sense the lad’s Force-sensitivity.

Upon seeing Satine, he loses his composure. He wrenches himself free from his captor and hurries over to her.

“Korkie, no!” she cries. Her voice is barely above a whisper, but Obi-Wan feels as intimidated by it as he would be by Master Yoda in a bad mood.

The young man (Korkie, his _son_!) must share the sentiment, because he falls back and instead turns to Obi-Wan.

Two identical pairs of blue eyes meet. Korkie studies his face intently. A silent understanding passes between them. They both know the truth. They both know the other would die for Satine.

The guard roughly grabs Korkie’s upper arm and forces him to his knees on the other side of the dais.

Stubbornly, he holds his head high and his face blank.

With a wave of his hand, Maul handcuffs the young man. A smile, cool and vindictive, makes its way onto his face.

“Now, now, young Kenobi. There’s no need to be so angry. I only want to... Have a little chat with you and your parents.”

Maul’s eyes, like burning charcoals, tear into Obi-Wan’s at his words. He returns his gaze coolly.

Then, he strikes, like a viper. His fist clenches and at his feet, Korkie is pulled into the air as his breathing is slowly, painfully, cut off.

His frantic gasps echo in Obi-Wan’s mind.

Because Maul is hurting _his son_ , the child he barely knows, and it _hurts_. The pain their link shows him burns in his heart, fuelling a fire. A good kind of fire. The kind of fire he feels for Satine, and Anakin, Ahsoka, his men, his friends. The Jedi. The fire of love. Love protects and nurtures.

He finds himself standing, trying to wrench the boy – his son - from Maul’s iron claws.

Something cool and hard presses into the back of his head. The barrel of a blaster.

Obi-Wan reaches out into the Force, pulling the weapon from his captor’s grasp.

The next second, an ear-piercing shriek rings in his ears. He whirls around. _Satine_. Another guard shot her in the shoulder. It won’t kill her, but it will hurt.

Maul tuts, like a disappointed parent might. Korkie is dropped for a mere few seconds, long enough to breathe a few laboured breaths, but not long enough for his breathing to regain normalcy.

“Really, _Master_ Kenobi. I thought you knew better than let your emotions control you. After all, you are... A model Jedi.”

“I believe I left the ‘model Jedi’ behind the moment I came here.”

Satine looks at him with those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes. Her expression is gentle, although she is clenching her teeth against the pain.

Maul watches them with little interest.

“This all is really quite touching, but I have a planet to rule and vengeance to take.”

His grip on Korkie’s windpipe tightens. He looks a little blue, but still breathing. Just enough to live. His mother chokes a sob, and Obi-Wan cannot say he is in a much better state. A lone tear rolls down his cheek the very moment his son manages to speak.

“Don’t worry – _gasp_ \- you two. I’m a – _gasp_ – tough kid. I’ll- I’ll make it through. I promise, Mum.” His chees are wet now, too. With the wryest of smiles, he adds: “Promise me – _gasp_ – you’ll do anything to save her... Dad.”

The words slow what little time they might have left together. They all know he might not last that long. No matter what he says.

Gracefully, Maul stands.

‘ _This is it. My son. He’s... Done for,_ ’ Obi-Wan thinks to himself. He is prepared for the despair. He’s lost people before... Right?

But his nemesis has other plans. With a smooth swing of the Darksaber, he stabs right into Korkie’s abdomen.

His son inhales sharply, clutching the wound on instinct. Only in the last second can he stop himself from incinerating his hands on the still-inserted blade.

“No!”

Satine’s scream, shrill and fearful, released the second Maul struck, is eardrum-shattering. Concealed in it are pain, fury, and – a mother’s love.

Obi-Wan finds himself in a state he barely knows - at a loss for words. It scares him that he knows exactly what the deed means. - Maul will make him suffer until he breaks.

“Tssk. What a shame. I was hoping your instincts would prevail and your dainty little hands would be done for, young Kenobi.” Maul sighed. “It appears we shall have to do this the hard way, _your Highness_.”

The Darksaber whirls through the air again.

Satine flinches and looks away. Obi-Wan focusses on his son’s face. If he is about to die, he wants the last thing he looks at to be _good_. Kind. _Warm_.

Korkie barely even flinches. A single tear streaks his face. He is shaking and shivering. Struggling for air, his eyes reddened and wide. It hurts him as much as them.

Knowing for sure this will be his last chance to do so, Obi-Wan holds his son’s gaze.

“Korkie. My son. Know that I love you. Even though I could never be there. Even though I missed out on your entire life. I love you. Eternally.”

Tearfully, his son nods. It’s not eve a nod. Just the tiniest incline of the head, as much as is possible within Maul’s iron chokehold.

Lazily, like a tooka in the sunlight, Maul brings his fist to a tight close.

A final gasp echoes through the throne room.

Korkie Kryze is dead.

Satine wails and sobs.

Obi-Wan feels numb.

He had met his son, only to lose him.

Maul smirks.

Maul revels in his pain.

The next strike is quick, and sudden. Obi-Wan is too wrapped up in his grief to notice at first.

Then his eyes fall upon Satine. Satine, who has fallen into a small heap. Satine, who is flickering like a candle in the wind.

“ _Satine_!”

Obi-Wan rushes forward and scoops her up. He does not care for the guards anymore.

She smiles up at him sadly and reaches out to stroke his cheek.

“Do not lose yourself. Remember, my dear Obi-Wan: I have... Always loved you... And I always will.”

He presses her close to him as he feels her go limp in his arms. Stumbling, he carries her body over to the other side of the dais, where the body of their son lies. Either Maul has respect for the grieving, or he relishes the few moments of sorrow he can still pull from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan reaches out to stroke his son’s hair, pushing his eyes closed. It is the first physical contact he has ever had with his son.

And Obi-Wan cries.

**Author's Note:**

> I was try-harding to give Maul a speech pattern and not make him OOC when writing this, could you tell?
> 
> Thanks go to the Obitine Discord for prompting me to write this as I got myself involved in an angst cavern. 
> 
> Thanks should also go to @ladysati on tumblr for inspiring me with her friend’s theory on what might have happened to Korkie, which was not this, but something similar: Korkie being tortured to death in front of Satine pre her death.  
> The title is “tearing stitches” because stitches fix holes and Obi-Wan’s heart first got stitched back together in this and then torn apart again.  
> In one version, Korkie got sliced in two for the sake of those delicious parallels. I decided against that because we’d just have a torse floating around then and it hurt just a tad bit too much.  
> Hope you enjoyed it!  
> (Pls don’t hurt me, I already hurt myself writing this)


End file.
